


the treacherous way to shore

by norikae



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: 'hyungwon is a caprisun and hoseok is a pisces and that is why we are here in this mess', Coming of Age, Fluff, M/M, Pining, and that is good and okay, my informal summary of this was, sometimes u need to find urself before u find someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norikae/pseuds/norikae
Summary: “It’s - uh,” Hoseok says, shrugging as casually as he can. “Nothing much, I just - wanted you to remember.”Now Hyungwon is laughing, the familiar low bray that has lodged itself so firmly in Hoseok’s sternum. “Remember what, ‘Seok,” he asks, “I see you literally every day.”But it doesn’t feel like enough, not when the summer of their youth is drawing to a close. Hoseok feels the end coming like something large and cavernous, an open maw drawing in upon them and swallowing them whole. Things will never be this way again, he knows, and the ache of knowledge settles deep within his bones.





	the treacherous way to shore

**Author's Note:**

> hello :} have been intensely busy for a while so I haven't posted... and have been working on other things that can't be revealed yet so! I just wanted to put something out there. It's a little messy, and unbetaed (as is my wont), but I hope you enjoy this story. it is a little bit personal; at points it hit for me too close to home. and it is a little different from my other works but I guess I have been exploring....  
> if you have watched free. yes it was on my mind when i was writing this. no i do not have any emotions left after that particular line of thought.  
> anyway if you have read this far. please enjoy :}

“Where will you go, after?”

It isn’t the first question Hoseok expects to be asked when he sets down his controller, satisfied after another win. Hyungwon’s large, doe eyes are slow, as always, languid blinking undermining the intensity there. Hoseok laughs awkwardly, scratches the back of his head. Says, “What do you mean?”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes, brushing his bangs away from his brow as he tosses his controller to the side, his half of the screen still reading _LOSE_ in big bold letters, the replay tracking a slow spin around his sprite. Outside the day is brilliant in the last throes of full-fledged light before the sun dips below the horizon. “You know. The career forms. What’d you write?” Pauses, then repeats, a tad unnecessarily, “Where will you go?”

“Where are _you_ going?” Hoseok snipes back, childishly. His arms fold together across his chest as he pouts. “You haven’t told me, either.”

An expression of brief disbelief - _the gall of you,_ it reads - crosses Hyungwon’s overlarge features for a moment before he’s reaching for a cushion behind him, pulling it out so he can toss it squarely into Hoseok’s face.

“I asked _first!_ ” He cries, pointing a scrawny finger at Hoseok. “You can’t do that!”

Hoseok grins, hugging the cushion to himself protectively. “But I just did, though?” A pause, like he’s pretending to think, and then, “What’re you going to do about it?”

Then there is a cry of ungainly rage, paper-wrists and bony fists next to follow as Hyungwon launches himself onto him. Easily, he shifts the entirety of his weight onto Hoseok, knees jabbing like knives into his thighs as he wrestles the cushion out of his grasp to begin an assault with it. “Shin - Hoseok - You -”, he grumbles, every word punctuated with a strike, “Big - Jerk!”

Hoseok is laughing, now, eyes scrunched tight and mouth pulled wide as he weakly fends off the ineffectual blows. Says, “Yeah - but - I - _ow_ \- can’t - _tell you_ , if I’m - dead - _Chae Hyungwon, stop hitting my beautiful face_!”

The onslaught ceases. Hyungwon tosses the cushion in his face again, one final blow, and then sits back on his haunches, lips pursed, considering. “I’m tired,” he announces, “So I’ll spare you this one time.” Then he wriggles off Hoseok and back to his side of the couch, grabbing hold of his controller again. “Wait, I have to pwn you in at least one dimension. Come on, let’s go another round.”

Hoseok takes a while to recover his breath, still wheezing slightly from the adrenaline of the playfight. He eases himself into a sitting position as he fake-grumbles, “Yeah, okay, I’ll just win again.” Doesn’t think about the answer he would’ve given, if only pressed.

 

-

 

“Hey, ‘Won, I gotta tell you something.”

They’re sitting on a park bench, after school, halfhearted attempts to quiz each other on English flashcards long abandoned. Hyungwon had argued that if they’d gone to his house they’d just end up playing co-op games again, _and these exams are reaaaaally important._

Privately Hoseok knows Hyungwon’s just pissed he keeps losing, but he’d nodded along anyway, pretending Hyungwon doesn’t have an inexplicably high grade average for somebody who only ever stays awake in class long enough to raise his hand when attendance is called.

A munching noise breaks the otherwise near silence. Hyungwon turns round eyes upon Hoseok, unintentionally arresting. “Yeah?” he manages, crunchily. “Whassup?” Grasped loosely in his right hand is his cellphone, screen blinking GAME OVER on a game of Angry Birds.

The bravado escapes him in a rush. “I, um.” He blinks rapidly, scrambling for something to say. “I’m hungry.”

Hyungwon inhales, and then exhales so hard and for so long a time that Hoseok begins to worry that he’s broken him. “I lost my game for you,” he huffs, but waves him off anyway, turning to his backpack and scrounging about for a moment. When he emerges it is to wave a snack sausage in front of Hoseok’s face. “Here ya go.” Then his other hand presents itself, holding a drink pack out. Strawberry milk. His favourite.

Hoseok feels his eyes widen as he hesitates, and Hyungwon makes a vague harrumphing noise as he waves them around in his vision. “Take them, or I will,” he threatens, even though there is very little that could be said to be intimidating about his strange, beanlike form.

Obediently, Hoseok reaches out, and takes them both. Peels the sticker off and pops the top of the snack sausage, chewing on it quietly. “Do you just carry a convenience store around inside your backpack, or what?” he tries, when the silence begins to feel oppressive, the sounds of nearby children playing little leagues baseball too loud in his mind. Absently he sticks the straw into the carton, and begins to sip.

Hyungwon slants his gaze towards him, then back towards the flashcards he’s finally decided to try reading. He flips a few before he replies. “You always get hungry,” he says, and it rattles in Hoseok’s skull all the way home.

 

-

 

Growing up had been an uncomfortable sort of experience for Hoseok. The other kids used to make fun of him for a multitude of things; his slight buckteeth, his undeniable lisp. The fact that he was a complete and utter crybaby, even for their age group.

When other children squealed and pulled their friends away from the crushed shell of a snail, shouting _gross!_ and _eww_ and _my mom said that’s dirty,_ Hoseok found himself curling into a squat, knees to chest, and sobbing uncontrollably for the lost life, the kind of honest brokenheartedness that only children were capable of.

_Even if they’re ugly, or gross… that doesn’t mean they’re worth less - !_

Then middle school had come, and one day a senior had asked him if he wanted to join an _ulzzang_ circle. “We have lots of fun,” she’d said, and she had been so cool and _pretty_. Prettier still when she’d looked him over, cocked her head, and said, “You have potential. So what do you say?”.

Insecure and lonely, Hoseok remembers seizing the chance. He wanted to be someone. Wanted people to look up to him, instead of down, for once. So who was he to complain when the parties got too much, when people were always trying to get their hands on him, when adrenaline had become his replacement for any sort of real human affection? People knew and respected who he was, and that invincibility brought a comfort he had not ever had the luxury of knowing before.

But that had quickly grown old. Exhausted, he stopped going out when invited, deleted his photos one by one until his account was gone altogether. Avoided other _ulzzangs_ until they got the message, and then by sixteen he was alone again, maybe even moreso than when he first began.

 

-

 

“Hyungwon.”

A raspberry blown in his general direction. “What, ‘Seok?”

Laughter, a vague swatting motion. “Do you remember how we met?”

Hyungwon sets his pen down on the table, huffing in irritation. “I’m trying to _derive an integral_ , Hoseok.”

Hoseok persists. _Something about it being a virtue, and all._ “Well, you’re clearly not doing it anymore. So do you?”

Hyungwon pulls his spectacles off the bridge of his curiously high nose, pinching between his eyes before he answers. “Yes, you giant meatball. It was literally the year before last.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Hoseok scoots closer to his best friend, eyes as wide as he can make them. Imploring for forgiveness for the interruption. “Humour me anyway.”

Hyungwon looks at him then, lazy eyes strangely clear for a moment. Then he says, slowly, “We were paired up for a project in biology. You were all awkward and quiet and kind of scary looking, but then we were searching up aquatic animals and you - you just burst out laughing, you asshole.”

Hoseok grins some more, urging him to carry on. “Why was I laughing, Hyungwonie?”

“You are a giant bag of dicks,” Hyungwon snipes in reply, but smiles as he continues anyway. “You said - you said I looked like a fucking turtle.”

Now Hoseok has pushed his face right into Hyungwon’s, obscuring his vision of his calculus worksheet. “I’m glad you remember the most important day of my life,” he chirps, smiling as innocently as he can. “This is your reward!” From behind him he produces a paper bag with Hyungwon’s name written on it in an obnoxiously drawn heart, a stuffed turtle plushie peeking its head out over the rim.

“Hoseok, you -” Hyungwon blinks as he takes the gift. “You’re such a fucking weiner, you know that,” he’s saying, but the words come out funny because he’s smiling so hard, extracting the plush toy from its papery confines and hugging it to his chest. His face is buried into its velveteen carapace when he mumbles, “I don’t look like a fucking turtle.”

Helplessly fond, Hoseok reaches out to pat him on the head, messing up his hair. “Whatever you say, turtle boy,” he hums, leaning his head on a hand propped up on the table as he does.

Then Hyungwon extracts himself from the soft toy, and, still hugging it to himself, tilts his head in question. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s with the gift?” His hands are restless, flapping the plush turtle’s fins, as he says, “It’s like, the middle of July.”

“It’s - uh,” Hoseok says, shrugging as casually as he can. “Nothing much, I just - wanted you to remember.”

Now Hyungwon is laughing, the familiar low bray that has lodged itself so firmly in Hoseok’s sternum. “Remember what, ‘Seok,” he asks, “I see you literally every day.”

But it doesn’t feel like enough, not when the summer of their youth is drawing to a close. Hoseok feels the end coming like something large and cavernous, an open maw drawing in upon them and swallowing them whole. Things will never be this way again, he knows, and the ache of knowledge settles deep within his bones.

“Remember… that you’re a turtle,” he says, instead, and ducks with a scream when Hyungwon tries to wreak his vengeance immediately. “Just a little _creature!_ ” he shouts, and races off across the school courtyard, Hyungwon hot on his heels behind him.

 

-

 

Hoseok carefully toes the door to the school roof open, bottle in one hand and phone in the other. The wind blusters in his face, and it feels like a slap. “Come to the rooftop, he says,” he mumbles to himself, “It will be fun, he says.” Then he looks up, about to call out, when he catches side of a figure, sloping against the light.

Backlit by sunset, Hyungwon's profile is dimly orange, features dipped in shadow when he turns half lidded, shining eyes towards Hoseok. When their gazes meet he reaches a hand out, wordless, tilting his head in an invitation to join him. “It’s pretty, huh, ‘Seokkie?”

All at once it feels as if he might be the only beautiful thing Hoseok has ever seen. His mouth is dry when he sets down the soda he was absently sipping at, a beat out of time with the way his hands grow clammy when he scrambles to join Hyungwon on the wall. After a few tries he gets it, and Hyungwon laughs at him for being clumsy, but waits for him to settle down before turning his gaze back towards the skyline, the sun a yellow yolk dipping below the horizon.

The sunset is magnificent. But still - Hoseok chances a look sideways. Hyungwon’s hair is a mess atop his head, dark strands blown every which way. And as he leans to his left, head tilted lazily, the long line of his neck is exposed, limbs lanky on the side of the low wall.

When the wind blows, it sinks gentle teeth into them before sliding away, reminiscent of the turning of the seasons. Brash in his summer uniform, Hoseok is bitten by the chill, and has to fight to suppress a shiver.

Hyungwon notices anyway. He scoffs, not at all meanly, and swings out a bony blazered arm, pulling Hoseok into his side. “You big baby,” he chides.

“I’m not a baby,” Hoseok mumbles, as an entirely token resistance, “I just. Haven't changed my uniform.” Even as he says this he drops his head onto Hyungwon's shoulder, contently curling into his side. Together they watch as the sky dyes purple, pink, a blinding vermillion, the blaze of a day laid to rest.

Above the clouds hang heavy, closing in on the blanket of night. As the light fades, pulling the day with it, Hoseok feels his heart being called home, to bay, to shore.

 

-

 

“You never answered my question,” Hyungwon pipes up suddenly. They’re in a Tom’n’Tom’s, having studied in the corner for the past five hours, and it’s about time to buy something for a belated lunch. Through the glass windows, below them at street level cars hum by, the city abuzz with activity.

“Finals are in two weeks, ‘Won, I can’t believe you’re asking me this now.” Hoseok rubs his eyes tiredly, leaning backwards in a stretch. “Seriously, I’m not even sure what you’re talking about. I just know it isn’t good.”

Hyungwon purses his lips. The effect is a dramatic pout. “I’m talking about the aspirations form,” he said, “You never told me where you said you were going.”

His heart skips a beat in his chest. “Neither did you,” Hoseok deflects. “Anyway, I think I want a - a quiche, do you think they still have those? I heard someone say they were really good, or something.”

“You can go down and order for yourself,” Hyungwon grumbles. “Don’t change the subject, ‘Seokkie. I’m practically your only friend. I can tell when you’re avoiding a question.” His arms are crossed now, brows furrowed. He looks unhappy. “It’s like you don’t want me to know, for some reason.”

Hoseok feels his face fall. “No, it’s not that… You know I would never,” he says, softly, “It’s just…” He looks around, at the interior of the cafe, at all the unconcerned patrons busy with their own lives. Looks back at Hyungwon, who looks so small despite his height, standing there in an oversized hoodie and ripped jeans. “It’s… ‘Won, can you sit down?”

Hyungwon stares at him for a beat, then does take a seat, compliant despite the open hurt on his face. “What is it?” he says, “Is this where you tell me you’re leaving for America and you’re never coming back ever again?”

“What - no, nothing like that. I…” Hoseok looks down, at his fingers, and thinks about crushed snails and buck teeth and crying children. “I didn’t write anything specific,” he mumbles, and then, words spilling out of his mouth before Hyungwon can say anything else, “Because you didn’t tell me what _you_ were gonna do.”

It’s weirdly quiet, despite the general buzz of conversation around them. Behind him somebody is irritatedly detailing how _he said he would pick me up after class, and then just ditched me, and then texted three hours later saying sorry, he forgot. He_ forgot! _About his girlfriend! Or - well, ex, anyway, I couldn’t_ not _dump him after that. You feel?_ , and it takes him a few breaths before he adds, head still resolutely tipped downwards, “I don’t really know what I want, I just… I don’t want to be away from you. That’s all.”

Then, with a small surge of bravery, he does raise his head, scanning before he manages to look Hyungwon in the eye. “But I couldn’t really tell you that, could I?” He feels his lips draw into a grin, but he knows he doesn't really mean it. He has never been that strong.

“Hoseok,” Hyungwon is saying, dumbfounded. “Hoseok, you.” A pause, then he tries again: “‘Seok, you know you don't really mean that. We - we're best friends, but I don't own your life. Surely there's something you want to do.”

 _Best friends_. Hoseok's mouth is so dry, even as he knows Hyungwon is right. Weird ability he has, that. But the thing is that for a long time Hoseok had never expected to even get this far in his schooling, and contemplation of a career path just has never been on the agenda. It seemed simpler to paste Hyungwon’s name in all the empty boxes. “Yeah, well...let's just say I don't know, okay?”

He looks away, grabs his wallet, and stands up. “Anyway. Look, let's just - just drop this now, I - it's lunch time, what do you want? I'll pay.” If it sounds too much like he's pleading, neither of them says a word.

There's a torturous moment where Hoseok feels like he's suspended above the ground on a tightrope. Like Hyungwon might push him over at any moment, all of that having been laid bare before him. Hoseok wouldn't blame him.

But then the other boy is sighing, and makes a small sound of contemplation. Says, “I want whatever you're getting.” Quieter, “I'm sure it'll be good.”

When Hoseok looks up there’s a tentative smile on Hyungwon’s face, and he isn’t thick enough to miss the hidden olive branch. He takes it; they’ve never actually fought before. He doesn’t want to start now. “Sure,” he replies. _I’m sorry, too._

 

-

 

Three years, as it goes, is enough to make a person into your whole world.

Or - well - Hoseok knows that isn’t entirely true. Or healthy. He knows that there’s more to life than whether or not Hyungwon’s having a good day, things exist even if Hyungwon isn’t looking at them, and that Hyungwon is very much human, and does make mistakes. Quite often, in fact, when he isn’t busy being painfully right.

But he’s a hopeless romantic, and the idea has a nice ring to it. He _does_ have other friends, sure, but - they’re not the _same_ , and they know it. At the moment Hoseok is in Chemistry lab, titrating phenolphthalein into a solution. His lab partner Kihyun hums idly as he sticks a burning splint into a test tube, making a satisfied noise when it extinguishes with a _pop_. “You look down,” he comments, demurely. “Trouble in paradise?”

Hoseok groans, half in answer, half out of frustration at the rate of titration. _Drip, drip, drip._ “We’re not _married_ ,” he grumps, incredibly halfheartedly and without even the barest trace of heat. “But yes. Sort of. Ugh, I just - do you want to hear it?”

Kihyun looks down at his worksheet, where he’s completed his half of the relevant exercises, then leans nonchalantly against the lab bench, goggles still firmly set against his devastatingly straight nose. “Sure,” he says, “I have time.”

Hoseok makes a small, sad noise as the solution continues to drip. “How do I - ugh, things are a little weird now, and it’s my fault,” he starts, “And I don’t know how to fix it, but it’s really all on me now.”

Kihyun hums delicately, washing his used test tubes ahead of time. “You’re in love with him.” It is a statement that does not even pretend to be a question.

“I’ve noticed,” Hoseok says miserably, still stuck on the titration. God, but doesn’t this take forever. He lets out a massive, gusty sigh, running a hand over his face against all protocol. “I mean, sometimes I - I know I don’t really have any aspirations of my own, and -” He groans. “Kiyeonie, where will you go after this?”

“I assume you mean after high school, and not after this lab, because we have PE next, you massive coconut.” Kihyun’s snark is refreshing, if nothing else, and Hoseok finds himself smiling at the way it feels. “Well. I’m thinking of pursuing Biotechnology at Seoul National, or maybe Sungkyunkwan.” He smiles. “Gotta study for those entrance exams, alright.”

Then his eyes narrow, and he’s looking at Hoseok like he already knows what’s going on. “Why, what about you?”

Hoseok slumps, defeated. “I don’t know, and - and that’s the problem,” he confesses. It feels like everybody has some kind of idea, and he suddenly feels dreadfully childish for his only criteria being _Wherever Hyungwon goes_. “That’s kind of what we disagreed about, I guess. He asked me where I said I wanted to go, and I said, wherever you’re going, and he told me that wasn’t a good answer. And before you say anything, Kyun, I know. He’s completely right. But I feel like - like time is running out, and I still don’t have an answer.”

“And he doesn’t know, correct?”

Hoseok pulls his face out of his hands just long enough to snap without any bite in Kihyun’s general direction. “Of course he doesn’t,” he says, “It could ruin _everything_. He’s still my best friend.”

Then, sudden and unexpected, Kihyun’s hand lands gentle upon Hoseok’s head, patting him ever so slightly. “It might not,” he says gently, “But you have to figure out what you want first.” The hand migrates to his shoulder instead, where it rests, a comforting weight. “Being near him and finding your own path doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive, you know? Even if the application period for top universities has closed there are plenty of good unis in Seoul that you could consider.”

Hoseok blinks at Kihyun for a while. Tries, hopefully, “What do you think I should do?”

The warm weight on his shoulder turns into a light smack on the side of his head. “I can’t decide for you,” Kihyun quips, “But I did hear Sahmyook U has some good courses. It’s not the only one, too.” He squints at Hoseok. “You like arts, right?”

Hoseok bobs his head slowly. “I don’t remember telling you that,” he says, suspicious, his lab partner turning away with an innocent smile.

“Lucky guess,” Kihyun says, gaze flickering towards the standing burette. “By the way, you might wanna check on your titration.”

Oh. He’d forgotten about that. Hoseok turns to see the entire tube empty, end point passed any number of cubic centimeters ago. “You could’ve told me earlier,” he grumps, detaching it from the stand to pour out the solution in resignation. He could just copy from Hyunwoo two benches down, later.

“Some answers you have to find yourself, Hoseokkie,” Kihyun intones, eyes glinting as he stows away the equipment. “Now help me rinse these cylinders, or God so help me.”

 

-

 

When Hoseok had fallen in love with Hyungwon, he had been fully aware it was happening. Had been able to pinpoint the exact moment when the scales had tipped, and still had been powerless to stop it.

It had been a year into their friendship; somewhere along the way they had begun to gravitate towards each other in classes, in the canteen, in the corridor in between lessons. It just - happened, and on this day they’d happened upon each other while heading out of school, even though they weren’t in the same class any more.

“‘Seok,” Hyungwon had called after him, spotting him across the courtyard. Hoseok had stopped walking instantly and turned to watch as the other boy toddled up, ungainly with his too-long limbs and heavy backpack. “Hey. Do you wanna go eat chicken?”

Hoseok remembers gripping the straps of his backpack and eyeballing the other suspiciously. “What’s the occasion,” he’d asked, wary. “Chicken is expensive.”

Hyungwon had grinned, the strange dopey one where his eyes fell almost shut and his cheeks rounded just so. “I’ll pay,” he’d offered cheerily, “I have some cash from my part-time job. I just think you look like you need some in your system.”

It made very little sense, but not half an hour later they were in a booth, Hoseok picking slowly at a drumstick while Hyungwon devoured them at a frankly alarming pace. Something about the silence had called for sudden introspection, spontaneous honesty. “Won,” he’d started, not a little foolishly. “You know how I used to be an _ulzzang_ , right?”

Hyungwon had looked up at him from a delicious, tender piece of chicken. It looked like it took him effort to do so. “I think I heard, yeah,” he’d said, “Why?”

Hoseok had bitten his lip, uncomfortable with being talked about. “If you know,” he said, “You’ll know that I wasn’t always the nicest person. Still am not, I guess.” He looked down. “Did all sorts of weird shit, too…” The lights were low, and the chicken was greasy, and he thought that he might be a little sick.

“If being weird worried me, ‘Seok, I’d be kind of fucked dealing with myself,” Hyungwon had replied. “And anyway,” he’d continued, stuffing an entire tender into his mouth all at once and talking foggily from around it, “I like you just fine the way you are now. I think that counts for something. Right?”

Then he’d dabbed messily at his mouth with a napkin, and eyed Hoseok’s basket critically. Having chewed and swallowed, he was much more intelligible when he said, “Hey, if you aren’t gonna eat those, can I have some?”

It hadn’t been big, or momentous. Hadn’t even been significant in any relevant way. But there was something in the ease with which Hyungwon had accepted a part of him that he had inherently coloured in guilt that had helped Hoseok forgive himself, too.

“Sure,” he’d said, smiling softly. “Be my guest.”

 

-

 

It’s cold out, and by all means his bed should be comfortable, but Hoseok cannot sleep. His last final is tomorrow, and then - and then _freedom_ , supposedly, but what next, of the great unknown?

Dissatisfied, he turns onto his side, kicking his blanket off in the process. Grabs his big stuffed bunny by the face and peers into its vacant, endless gaze, pulling it so he’s staring it down, eye to eye.

“What do I do, Tokki?” He implores, squishing its soft, pliable cheeks.

Tokki doesn’t reply.

“I know, I’ve sent out a few applications - I’m _trying_ , but it doesn’t mean I’m not scared, you know?”

Still silent, Tokki gazes back at him, impassive and made of polyester and cotton.

Hoseok laughs. “You’re right, it’d be way worse if I flunked tomorrow’s paper, but humour me for a while, okay?”

The room is cast in the heavy dark blue of night, and through the window an angle of moonlight finds its place on Hoseok’s pillow, shafting over one eye. He blinks, slowly, and has to remember to breathe. “Tokki,” he starts, squeezing the plushie as he talks to the ceiling, “What if he goes to Seoul, and I - I _don’t_ , and then time just pulls us apart and in a few years it’s like we never met?”

Unbidden, tears are rising to the fore. “I don’t want that to happen. Kihyunie was right, and I know - there are lots of courses I can attend closer to home, but.” He breathes. “Four years is so long. Longer than we’ve known each other, and I’m so _scared_ , you know? It’s like - your life can just change in an instant, and… and I don’t _like_ that. I wish things could stay the same.”

Then he looks down, and sees Tokki’s face contorted in his unconsciously tightened grip. Hoseok gasps softly as he lets go, watching the bunny slowly inflate back to its original state. “Sorry, Tokki,” he mumbled, “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 _Didn’t mean to hurt Hyungwon, either_ , with his indecision, but it’s funny the way things turn out sometimes. Hoseok squeezes the rabbit to his chest and thrashes about in his sheets, trying to get comfortable so he can get some rest. “Tomorrow,” he promises himself, “Tomorrow, and then...”

He doesn’t finish the thought, falling deep into a dreamless sleep.

 

-

 

At graduation, Hoseok is impatient the whole way through. Next to him Kihyun slaps his knee in mild irritation to make it stop jiggling, but shrugs when Hoseok turns to offer a quick apology, slipping him a half grin that says, _I know._

Soon they are done with the ceremony and collecting their diplomas, the body of students beginning to mill about. In the pocket of his blazer there is a heavy weight, and no sooner are they dismissed than is Hoseok racing off into the bind, deftly manoeuvring the crowd with a series of _excuse me_ s, _sorry!_ s, and awkward sidesteps.

 _Class 3I….There!_ Hoseok skids to a halt in front of the row of Hyungwon’s class, and their class representative, Minhyuk (if hearsay is to be believed, a joke election who ended up doing a surprisingly good job) looks up, smiling at him with bright, crescenting eyes.

“Oh, hold on,” he says, and turns backwards before Hoseok can stop him. “ _CHAE! HYUNGWON!_ Come here at once!” A pause as there’s a commotion somewhere in the back of the line, and Minhyuk throws his head back and laughs, teeth straight and white. “No, you’re not in trouble, you distinction scoring cryptid, somebody’s here for you.”

A tall head emerges, round glasses slightly askew. “Somebody’s? - Oh,” he says, as he sees Hoseok. Softer, eyes locking directly onto his, “Hey.”

Minhyuk interrupts them both with a loud whistle, pushing Hyungwon directly into Hoseok and away from the curious eyes of their assorted classmates. Hyungwon stumbles, and Hoseok half-catches him by the arm, letting go as quickly as possible. A throat is cleared. He’s not sure whose it is.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Hoseok says, unnecessarily, “But uh… outside?”

Hyungwon smiles in that dear, dopey way of his, and it lodges in Hoseok’s chest, a feeling so painfully fond. “Sure,” he says, turning Hoseok around and pushing him in between the shoulderblades, “Lead the way.”

 _Outside_ is a walkway just off the main corridor to the school hall, away from the buzz. Through the open windows weak sunlight bathes the area in a gentle glow, birds chirping distantly with the first hints of spring.

“So, uh,” Hoseok begins, shuffling from foot to foot as Hyungwon watches him expectantly. “I wanted you to know. I,” he starts, and then his hands are heavy and clunky as he’s fumbling around for the pocket of his blazer, “I took what you said to heart, and I.” Finally, he pulls it out, extricating the envelope with still-trembling hands.

“I got into SNUE,” he announces, unable to fight the smile threatening to spread across his face. “You’re probably going to Seoul National, I know, and it’s a little far, but I - I went after something I wanted, ‘Wonnie, and I wouldn’t have. Wouldn’t have gone for it without you, so…” He looks down, suddenly shy. “Thank you.”

Suddenly Hyungwon envelops him in a hug, one so tight Hoseok can barely breathe. “That’s amazing, ‘Seok,” he mumbles, voice right by his ear, “I’m so proud of you.” Then he pulls back, squinting. “Wait. ‘Far’? It’s like 45 minutes.”

Hoseok coughs. “45 minutes is a huge increment over zero,” is all he says, by means of explanation. Then he smiles. “So, law at SNU? You’re gonna be great, Won.”

Hyungwon nods. “Yeah,” he confirms, a bit bashful. “And you - you’ll be the best grade school teacher, ‘Seokkie, I know it. Kids love you. I’m,” he says, “I’m really so proud of you.”

Then they lapse into silence, again, neither looking the other in the eye. The air, so still, is strangely heavy. Hoseok clears his throat, is about to say “Should we go back in?” when Hyungwon suddenly glances up, wide-eyed, and catches him by the wrist he raised while gesturing inwards, pulling it down gently.

“Hoseok, you,” he says. “That day, in the cafe. What you said, I…” Involuntarily, the hand around his wrist slides down to grasp Hoseok’s hand loosely. “I didn’t hear you wrong, right?”

Panic shoots into Hoseok’s chest, taking hold of his lungs. Instinctively he feels like he should run, but Hyungwon squeezes, ever so gently, a grounding presence. He takes a deep breath, and keeps his eyes closed when he replies, “No, you didn’t.”

The soft sound of breathing. “Hoseok,” Hyungwon says, the name gummy in his mouth. “Look at me.”

So he does, tamping down the fear threatening to devour him whole. Where their hands are touching Hyungwon has pressed their palms together, interlinking their fingers. His eyes are clear when he says, “Me too.”

For a moment the earth has halted upon its axis. Then Hoseok blurts out, “I’m, I’m sorry for telling you like that. I - you deserve flowers, and gifts, and nice dinners, and all tha - _eep_!”

Hyungwon has leaned forwards, touching their noses together for the briefest moment before stepping back. “We don’t have money for that, you massive softie,” he says, very practically. His thumb is moving in small circles across the muscle of Hoseok’s hand. “But you know what we do have?”

Hoseok bites his lip in thought as Hyungwon tugs them by their joined hands, heading for the staircase that will take them to the courtyard and out of school. “Time,” he pronounces simply, grinning like he’s proud of himself for coming up with that on the spot. Hoseok only laughs, and holds on to him a little harder.

The February sky is clear, and the air is chill against their skin. In more ways than one, Hoseok knows he is going home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know if you liked it!! drop me a note on twitter at [@frogbabey](http://twitter.com/frogbabey) i promise i don't bite + i do like making new friends....

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [got nothing but time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17285453) by [moondance (knightspur)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/moondance)




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